Elisabethville.
No,' his voice seemed to carry helpless regret for all the suffering of
mankind, 'No, she will die.' 'Haig!' said Bruce.
'Pardon?'
'Father, you have a theatre here. Is it fully equipped?'
'Yes, I believe so.'
'Anaesthetic?'
'We have chloroform and pentothal.' 'Good, said Bruce. 'I'll get you a
doctor. Come on, Shermaine.' This heat, this stinking heat!' Wally
Hendry mopped at his face with a grubby handkerchief and threw it on the
green leather bunk.
'You notice how Curry leaves me and you here on the train while he puts
Haig up at the hotel and he goes off with that little French bit.
It doesn't matter that me and you must cook in this box, long as he and
his buddy Haig are all right. You notice that, hey?'
'Somebody's got to stay aboard, Wally,' Andre said.
'Yeah, but you notice who it is? Always you and me those high society.
boys stick together, you've got to give them that, they look after each
other.' He transferred his attention back to the open window of the
compartment.
'Sun's down already, and still hot enough to boil eggs. I could
use a drink.' He unlaced his jungle boots, peeled off his socks and
regarded his large white feet with distaste.
'This stinking heat got my athlete's foot going again.' He separated two
of his toes and picked at the loose scaly skin between.
'You got any of that ointment left, Andre?'
'Yes, I'll get it for you.'
Andre opened the flap of his pack, took out the tube and crossed to
Wally's bunk.
'Put it on,' instructed Wally and lay back offering his feet.
Andre took them in his lap as he sat down on the bunk and went to work.
Wally lit a cigarette and blew smoke towards the roof, watching it
disperse.
'Hell, I could use a drink. A beer with dew on the glass and a head that
thick.' He held up four fingers, then he lifted himself on one elbow and
studied Andre as he spread ointment between the long prehensile toes.
'How's it going?'
'Nearly finished, Wally.'
'Is it bad?'
'Not as bad as last time, it hasn't started weeping yet.'
'it itches like you
wouldn't believe it,' said Wally.
Andre did not answer and Wally kicked him in the ribs with the flat of
his free foot, 'Did you hear what I said?' 'Yes, you said it itches.'
'Well, answer me when I talk to you. I ain't talking to myself.'
'I'm sorry, Wally.' Wally grunted and was silent a while, then: 'Do you
like me, Andre?'
'You know I do, Wally.'
'We're friends, aren't we, Andre?'
